


My Place is Yours

by forkswashington



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Genderswap, M/M, everyone's bi thanks for asking, life and death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forkswashington/pseuds/forkswashington
Summary: taking from life and death, beau, edythe, and julie are borrowed and placed alongside their canonical counterparts. retaining key plot points and making necessary adjustments, beau and bella battle it out on who is the best kid to deal with renee's antics and charlie's general disinterest in showing emotion. edythe and edward await the arrival of both, surprised to find that only one swan sibling came to forks. to unveil the relationship between the cullen twins, their shared power to read minds reveals how intimate their eternities must be. julie and jacob together deal with the loss of their mother and the disengagement of their older siblings who are also twins. in the interest of maintaining and developing the relationships between each character, this work will come together in snippets, piece by piece, to flesh out the pasts of each set of twins. expect drabbles with the greatest attempt to remain in character. expect heavy emotion. expect bad jokes. expect to revisit your favorites and meet new ones. expect everyone to be bisexual. expect this summary to finally be over.





	1. and so we wait / edward pov

Edythe and I traverse the morning until school begins, hunting more northeast than usual to waste time before first period, before we expect her to arrive.

My biology teacher goes on about cells, nervously adjusting the projector to exhibit cartoonish diagrams. He understands the basics. We both admire him. I tap my fingers on the table. I pretend I listen to his ramblings on walls, nuclei, numerous parts ( _perfect for pop quizzes_ , Banner thinks as he lists them off to the few notetaking students). Plants and animals, proteins, he mentions, too, and then eventually arrives at the final topic of blood typing, an unexpected thought. I quit tapping, thinking of Bella Swan, tuning out, knowing one of us could get the information on the upcoming skip day from the mind of a studious teen hunched over in the front row.

_You know Alice is checking into it_ , Edythe cuts in, projecting her thoughts to me during Mr. Banner’s in-depth and definitely not repetitive lecture on cell replication.

_Alice saw her coming—_ Behind me, I feel Edythe stare at the empty space of Bella’s seat.  _I didn’t know she would tell Rosalie. She knows how difficult it is to hide for her to thoughts from me. And for me to hide thoughts from…_

“Edward?” Banner breaks our thoughts–we momentarily escaped our human act and he caught us. So often, when teachers have suspicions, they seek us out. If they do not feel intimidated in that moment. The classroom is revealing.

I thoroughly answer his textbook questions. He avoids asking Edythe, partly because of me, which makes Mr. Banner a more susceptible target of my temperamental sister. We move on to other projections, on the board and in our thoughts. No Bella in in sight.

_She has a brother, Beau. It’s cute, isn’t it? Hardly a coincidence, after all we’ve seen, all we’ve lived through. Alice is right about destiny, that’s one thing we can agree on, Edward. Imagine if I had been married me off and avoided the flu. What kind of monster would you have become?_

_We’ve asked ourselves this question for years. What has changed since? Since the war ended? Before humans invented vaccines? Without you, I would have been alone all these years._

_Don’t tell Carlisle that. About the vaccines. And you being alone._

_You understand the point I make. What if I had gone to war? And you stayed behind, survived because Carlisle’s unbending generosity that was willing to let you live? What if only you had been changed? Would you be as you are now?_

Our instantaneous conversation continues for thirty minutes until the bell above the door rings and we are dismissed. I have my notebook packed before most students move an inch. Edythe is decidedly better at acting human, more confident with her immortality. Not so much for me. I am unsure if I admire it.

I think of Edythe’s proposal—if my twin had not survived with me because of Carlisle’s selfless acts, would either of us be as we are now?

Tame with a low kill count, Edythe and I place an incredible effort to uphold Carlisle’s sense of morality. We live up to the standard, straying only for a year in our days as newborns. Carlisle, Edythe and I know it could be worse, aware of Jane and Alec, our younger, carnivorous counterparts who are, together, thirsty to torture.

I feel her in my head. I think almost anything and Edythe listens. We are both uncomfortable with our heightened abilities, and her narrative is not mine to overthink. I pull my bag over my shoulder as I wait for her to put her books away. Other students do the same. She is more patient with her everlasting time here on earth. I wait for change, never finding difference in anything other than a new last name to pretend with in a school of children. I hide my thirst from them, my name.

_Edward._

I hide nothing from Edythe. I follow her outside into the cover of cloudy skies.


	2. worried / bella pov

Beau called in the morning, frantic, speaking with a speedy voice immediately after I picked up. As I am now an hour behind him, he woke me in the middle of sleep, a light slumber that I was pleased to have achieved given the situation, given all of last night’s crying.  
I moved miles away from my brother, changing my residence to Forks, a declining logging town with a population comparable to one of Phoenix’s vast suburban neighborhoods. Forks likely has fewer inhabitants than the wealthier cul-de-sacs which Renée would gape at, in awe of the homes she never stepped foot in, as she took us trick-or-treating for oversized candy bars. We were both miserable, Beau and myself, having to celebrate a silly holiday–the event was more for our mother who thrived after grabbing a glimpse of the good life. We played along, cheering her up while repressing the same annoyances. We are too alike, my twin and I, but we are never bothered by this fact.  
I chose to live with my father while Beau continues to enjoy the Arizona sun. Renée, our almost too young and no longer single parent, gladly accepted his offer to spend time with her while her new husband is on the road, playing minor league baseball, paying rent. She is enthralled by her early thirties, only slightly balding husband who brings out her youth. Beau and I see it in her eyes, but we sensed her worry about being alone while Phil is out of town. So Beau stayed. I left. We can’t decide who’s braver.

I tried to keep our phone call brief, knowing that my first day of class would drag on forever. I saw no point in extending my misery.  
“Bella,” he began, “I have a feeling.”  
“Me too. I feel that you’re being vague.”  
“A bad feeling. About you. About you being so far from home. I don’t know, there’s something…off. My anxiety is racing, worse than it’s ever been. This only happens when you’re gone or when we sense something is wrong. Don’t you feel it?”  
I paused before responding, taking stock of my emotions, whatever was settling in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed before answering, “You’re right. Something doesn’t feel right, but today is my first day. I can’t miss it. Well, I can’t find a good excuse to miss it. I could skip but I’d have to evade Charlie’s questions. He’s bound to be keeping an eye out on me. Someone would tell him I didn’t show.”  
“Tell him you couldn’t sleep. Jet lag. The rain. It always rains in Forks. You can’t sleep when it rains. You have nightmares. Bella,” he said, his tone desperate, “stay.”  
“I’ll see what I can do. I have to go, Beau.” I placed the phone on the hook, trailing my hand down the length of the spiraled cord, and sighed.  
Beau was braver.  
But I could prove myself, too.

I turn the page of my worn copy of _Jane Eyre_ , the suspense increasing as the rain picks up outside my bedroom window. I wonder if there is attic space for Beau, in case he might lose himself while being alone with Renée whose childish tendencies could drive anyone up a wall.  
I feel no fear, but, somehow, I feel his fear from miles and miles away. I remain in touch with his emotions, but I find myself on guard when others try to show affection. I think of my quick hug at the airport as I said goodbye to Renée. And then I think of hugging Beau, the familiarity of touching him. Our mutual understanding to take care of one another reveals itself when we trust the other when we believe the other. I believe Beau. He is braver than me. I check the time and it’s already two–an hour left of school. Charlie will be home soon and I’ve prepared my alibi in the form of NyQuil. I close my book, dig in my suitcase for the bottle, and stand before the bathroom mirror. I take off the cap and throw my head back. There. I swallow enough to fall fast asleep, to evade my father’s questions while answering them succinctly, visibly, as I sleep until the late hours of the night, believing I would wake just in time for another phone call.


	3. a look back / edythe pov

The last time I looked in the mirror for this long I had green eyes and my reflection was tarnished–not just by the passing of time, but also my state of being. I was crumbling, becoming nothing, only skin and bones which made my eyes wider, my hair lackluster. I think I remember having freckles, and this made me distinct from Edward. Growing up, I preferred playing outside while my brother practiced piano. I knew that, like my mother’s roses surrounding our veranda, the sun gives life. Looking in the mirror, I knew I needed sun. I needed sudden life. 

Father was already gone, the first to go in my family but not the first in our neighborhood. Mother was the next to go–unrecognizable, her pallid skin would have blended into the hospital’s atmosphere, but the ever-growing amount of patients prevented the place from feeling clean. 

I let go of my own gaze, feeling someone approach me from behind. A smooth, concerned voice interrupted my vanity. “What are you doing up?” he asked, and I turned around to recognize the young doctor. Blond, seemingly only a handful of years older than me, I was not enamored by his impossible attractiveness. It was his eyes. A light gold, a caramel color that could be found on a World’s Fair apple, looked back at me with care. 

I felt a shift in the air–it was my brother. I heard him gasp in pain but I was unable to move fast to his bed. Luckily, the doctor was by Edward’s bedside before I could answer his question. 

I made my way over to his bed, noticing that he was worse off than I thought, worse off than me, and I knew I had to do something to protect him. 

The doctor was consoling Edward, placing a damp towel on his head to reduce his fever, when he turned to me. “You must get back to bed. In your condition, you must conserve your energy.”

“I need to see my mother,” I replied, walking closer to Edward’s bed, close enough to confuse the moisture on his forehead–was it sweat or water? His face wasn’t red, and I didn’t know whether or not this was a positive sign. “Where is she?” I managed to put some force behind the question, and, looking me over once, the doctor pointed me to the other side of the room–dozens of beds were lined up, spanning across the dining hall turned hospital ward in a frightening way: I could not tell who was alive, who was dead, who belonged amongst us and who didn’t. But I could see my mother’s caramel hair, hair the same color, I realized, as the doctor’s eyes.

Somehow I was able to get to my mother, using the frames of the beds as a means of balancing when I was short of breath, which was often. But, with this, I was able to tell who was dead or alive. 

And most were dead. 

No groans, no coughing, only silence from over half. The doctor must know this, and perhaps this is why he was surprised to see me walking. With this thought, I kept going, closer to Mother. 

When I was almost to her bed, her eyes flickered open. Her mouth parted slightly. I held on to the metal frame at the foot of her bed and called out to her, but it sounded like a question. Like I needed a confirmation that she was truly alive. She said my name, ever so faintly, and I was happy that I was not her only child who was attuned to listening carefully to identify subtle sounds. I did not spend all my time outside. Sometimes, Edward would instruct me on how to create a melody. I knew, then, that my mother’s voice was off-key. Once I reached her, I leaned in.

“Edythe,” she said again, and I knew it would be the last time I would hear her say my name. “Have him save you. Have him save you.” Her voice, at first, was loud enough for a nurse to move her head in our direction. The second time, her voice lowered, faded. “Save you both. Have him save you both.” But the last repetition fell short, as short as my breath, and her last words were punctuated by a moan of pain that I assume was her goodbye.  


	4. first time apart / beau pov

I wake to a phone call that interrupts my afternoon nap. Next to me, a copy of Henry James’ _The American_ falls to the floor as I reach for my cell phone. Flipping it open, I clear my throat, scratching my neck with my free hand. I don’t have to look at the caller ID to know it is my sister.

Her voice is almost as groggy as mine, so I ask, “How was your nap?”

“Well,” she pauses, “I just woke up.” Her emphasis on “just” lets me know that her plan worked.

It is Saturday–Bella had successfully skipped school, avoiding Charlie’s professional questioning.

"You criminal,” I joke. “And with a truancy officer living in your house.” I sit up, hearing my back crack as I adjust my posture. Jeez, I needed bigger bed. The twin worked up to a point, but, a twin myself and an authority on the matter of all things twins, I thoroughly disapprove of sleeping on a child-size bed.

“I’m waiting for his wake-up knock at any moment, but, I have to say, this NyQuil trick works if you ever want to get out of anything.”

“You’re talking about Mom here. You’ve disciplined her more than she’s disciplined you.”

I heard some jostling on her side of the line, then the distinct tone of dial-up. Bella was talking to herself, a trait we both shared, cursing the speed of the “dinosaur” computer. After chastising me for chuckling, she explains, “Mom’s waiting on a response. She must have sent me ten emails since I left a couple days ago. Oh, no, a dozen.”

“'Oh, no’ is right. I’d put you on the line with her but she said she’d be at the gym this afternoon.”

“The gym?”

I backtrack, “A gym. Phoenix has more gyms with free first workouts to last her every Saturday for the rest of the year.”

“Do you think she’ll keep it up? Last month was vegetarianism, and she gave that up after realizing the moral inconsistency of buying you chicken nuggets to eat every day.”

“Look, it’s a diet, a lifestyle. The nuggets, I mean, and you’re well aware that Renée likes a good excuse for taking risks. It must run in the family.”

“Coming from here in Forks, it seems to have skipped you,” she corrects me, and I could hear her typing faster. I could imagine her biting her lips and, with my tongue, I felt teeth marks on mine. Some things we share, like our anxieties, ways of coping, our bad habits.

“You say that, but it won’t be long before I visit you, and, if it’s any consolation, I’ll cook for you.”

“Looking forward to it,” she replies dryly. “Hey, Beau, I gotta go. The knock has arrived.”

“Remember, jet lag.”

“That won’t be hard to sell,” she says, then abruptly hangs up. I look down at the novel beside me–unlike James’ protagonist, Bella left her home for the sake of family, not to seek out riches, royalty, a new life and name. I think of this, and wonder who I am to stay.


	5. clearly paternal / julie pov

"Another one?” I ask, giggling on the couch and looking behind me to see Jacob opening the fridge. He turns his body and looks up at me, his hair getting in his face. He brushes it back and gives his head a slight shake. 

“I’m a growing boy,” he says, and I notice that he has a can of soda in his hand already. “And we’re out of that drink mix--I hate our tap water, though.” He makes a face and closes the fridge. 

“I’ll pick up a Brita while I’m out getting the oil changed on my Porsche.” I say this as I fix my gaze back on the little TV. A single mom is waiting to find out about the father of her twin boys. She tells the host, with an unrecognizable draw, that she’s sure she knows she’s right about the dad. Her smirk reveals her confidence, and I know somehow that she’s right.

“We’re not that broke right now. You just started a job.”

“That’s right, I’m not that broke. Did you ever get a call back from the workshop down the street?”

“I left a voicemail a couple days ago. I said that I could work for him for just a few hours a week, anything will do.” 

“That’s good.” By now I have disengaged from the conversation. The show’s camerawork is setting us up to expect that the woman knows nothing about her own body, and that she’s lying on national t.v. for attention. She wouldn’t be the first one, but from how she sits up on the beige chair, I know that being right is all part of the act. 

“He’s the,” begins the host, “....father!” And so, as one can imagine, the father stands up dramatically from his seat, his face reddening, as he denies it all. He bought a new suit when he should have saved his money. The new suit wouldn’t take back that one night.

Jacob joins me on the couch and, now, there is hardly enough room to be comfortable. “Jules,” he says my nickname and I cringe back, knowing he’s wanting something. 

Before he asks, I ask, “What do you want?”

“I was thinking I’d have more luck in Forks, and if I could borrow the car on some days and drop you off on others…”

“I don’t have my license, Jake. Neither do you. We’re both fifteen and the only reason I get away with it is because we’re on the rez. You don’t drive because it’s already a risk and you decided to buy the Rabbit instead of taking Dad around town.”

“I only need a few more parts.”

“It’s not really my problem, because you’re the one who would get in trouble. And so would Dad. It just increases the risk, being stupid and making stupid decisions. I don’t mind as much.”

“It helps that Dad’s best friend is the big man in Forks,” he mentions. Right, I remembered now. Forks, the small foresting town where most of us on the rez only went when necessary, would soon be home to two more citizens. 

“I see now,” I laugh. “Bella and Beau are coming to town. And you think you’ll have a chance with Bella.” His face gets sweaty, but I continue, “I get it, we grew up with everyone around here, but she’s older than us.”

“They’re both older, but we’ve known them since we were kids.”

“If I hardly remember, you must not remember much.”

My brother shoots me an exhausted look. He begins to reply, but I know what he’s thinking. They’re twins, and they aren’t our sisters, so maybe they’ll understand more what it’s like being us without having to be related to us. 

“When do you think we should meet them?”

“Dad said something about maybe having dinner together, cooking fish or something.”

“There must be a game,” he said.

“A game,” I agreed, knowing it was a good excuse as any. 


	6. anticipation / jacob pov

My sister made it clear that she is a big proponent for choice--it was my choice that I bought this scrap of a car, and, as a result, it was my choice to be stuck at home when I could be meeting Bella. 

 

She isn’t older than me by much, anyway, and I figure that, if anything, she would bring insight to what life was like as a twin, and, more importantly, what it was like to get away from yours.

 

I love Julie, don’t get me wrong or read too far into this, but I know that being inseparable has had its toll on us. We have to be adults, though, ever since our older sisters left us for college. Well, Rebecca had better luck with that. The last I heard from Rachel, she was backpacking throughout the forest with some Canadian. It was clear to me that as soon as they left, they left each other to go their separate paths--at least for a while. Until then, we haven’t spoken much with them, and it has strained my relationship with Jules. 

 

Money is tight, and there aren’t many options on the rez for fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year-olds to find work. With one car, the truck, between the three of us, we are limited by scheduling--and, considering Dad’s doctor’s appointments that are an hour away, because he refuses to see the doctor in Forks, we are split unevenly between uses. Not that I’m allowed to drive, either. Dad thinks it’s best to limit the illegal driving of his raggedy truck down to only one underage kid. But I think he’s doing this to spite my investment--the Rabbit wasn’t looking good, I have to admit, but once I’m finished--

 

I hear the door creak, and, as I look up, I notice the person is considerate enough to shut it behind them. It’s Jules, and I notice that her hair is longer than mine now--hers grows faster, although we gave each other an even trim on the same day. 

 

“Any plans for tonight, brother?” she says, walking toward a stool and having a seat. She begins to move back and forth, rotating while she waits for my answer. 

 

“Just working on the car. It’s moving along.”

 

She examines the spread of parts and smirks. “I see. Well, I’ve made plans for us to go to Charlie’s tonight. It’s Saturday, and, as we guessed, there’s a game. What kind, you ask? Don’t ask.”

 

My heart speeds up slightly, and I am glad that I already had a sheen of sweat on my forehead. “Great. I’ll wash up. What time?” I find it hard to hide my genuine interest in meeting Bella, and Jules picks up on it. I wonder about her--we are in agreement that this twin thing does not always benefit us, so I know that, often, her desires are exposed. 

 

When we were younger, when Rachel and Rebecca were teens and invited their friends over--individually, each sister had more friends than the two of us combined--Jules would throw glances longer than mine. And then we would glance at each other, and her cheeks would redden, and I would know. 

 

So I wonder how hard it is for her to hide her interest, and I do this while looking at her, trying to conceal what I may or may not know. 

 

She’s my sister, and I can’t expect for her to tell me anything any more than I can expect myself to finish this car in a decent amount of time. 


	7. home life / bella pov

Telling Charlie about skipping school wasn’t as hard as I expected it to be--he gave his usual flash of concern, then went about his business, returning downstairs, grumbling to himself about making a pot of coffee. At the sound of that, I got up from bed and put some sweatpants on. A few minutes of silence later, the pot was brewed, and I grabbed myself a cup.

 

“Beau says ‘hi,’” I say, and he looks up from the paper. Its headline blares at me: ROCK CLIMBER, 23, FOUND DEAD IN VANCOUVER.

 

“How is he?” The concern on his face lasted longer this time. He sets his coffee down.

 

“It’s weird being apart,” I admit, and then I think of how well my dad can relate. My mom left Forks somewhat on a whim--it was easier for her to tell Charlie that she hated it here than to admit to herself that she was a disappointment to her conservative parents. After having not one but two kids before marriage, my grandparents wanted nothing to do with her, despite the success her cop husband found as the chief of police in this small, forgetful town. “But I’ll have to get used to it...besides, he said he would visit soon. He could take a weekend or come here during spring break, I suggest.

 

“Let him know that I have some money saved up, and I could always fly him out here to see him.” He must have saved from us refusing to visit him for a whole summer in California. Those hotel rooms and Disney tickets add up.

 

“I will.” I drain the last bit of coffee by throwing it back. The undissolved sugar on the bottom makes me cough. I get up to rinse out the cup in the sink, beginning to wash it. “Also, I need to go grocery shopping. Dad, you have nothing here.” For a second, I almost called him “Charlie” to his face, and I am happy I didn’t before asking him for money. “I don’t see how you survive. Do you really go to the diner every night?”

 

“Every other,” he says shortly, taking a sip of his coffee while his brown eyes don’t leave my gaze, staying steady with mine.

 

“Ok, well, I’m going to make a list. And that includes no soda. I see all the cans in the fridge, and we’re going to cut back.” I pause. “I’m not trying to be pushy. Just concerned, is all.”

 

The look on his face suggests that he wants to argue, but he gives up, knowing that I’m right. “The doctor did say something about my heart…”

 

I become alarmed, but he continues, “Nothing is wrong, Bells, it’s just that I’m getting older and need to look out for myself. So you’re right.” I don’t reply for a moment, gleeful that I don’t have to explain myself for once.

 

“Great, good. I will be going in a couple of hours.”

 

He begins to take out his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill to hand to me. “Thanks,” I say, shoving it in my back pocket.

 

“I forgot to tell you. The Blacks called while you were asleep. I’m sure you remember them--the older sisters, Rachel and Rebecca, are also twins. The younger two, Jacob and Julie, may be a bit too young for you to remember. But they’re twins, too.” _This is the most he has said to me in three years,_ I think, and let him finish. “But they want to have dinner tonight, and I was thinking we could cook together.”

 

I am worried about being in the kitchen with him, someone who eats out more often than not, so I determine that spaghetti will be the chosen meal, not too difficult to manage. “I’ll get the ingredients. What time?”

 

“The game starts at five,” he replies, and I know he didn’t mean to expose the true intent of this meaning--that if we want to make dinner, I shouldn't be too long.

 

It’s just a game to me, but maybe it will present the opportunity to meet someone interesting here, not that I am interested in that.


	8. unhinged / edward pov

It is Saturday, and I had to get away. Despite days of preparation, hunting to quench this everlasting thirst, I felt it was necessary to make some space between myself and my family. Something had come over me, and I don’t know what. 

This feeling is the strongest I have felt in almost a century. 

After school, I left without notice, but Alice saw me disappear before I was out of town. She called, asking if something had gone wrong--she knew that Beau had not been to school, missing his first day. 

And I was frustrated with my confusion. Having no planned interest in Bella, I was still stuck being interested in them both, and Alice’s phone call reminded me of how determined my future would be. I know that Alice’s visions are uncertain, but the emotion of the possibility of Bella is a feeling of great confusion. 

I keep driving. 

I was going to run, and I will, but I needed to take a moment to understand my emotions, to be in an enclosed space with everything passing by me. 

In fifteen minutes or so, I dump the car at an airport parking lot by the Canadian border--always precautious. 

I briefly walk down a busy road until I find a woodsy area and disappear into the trees, the dark already falling upon me. 

Running does not take long enough, and neither does swimming, so my head isn’t clear when I get to Denali. I wonder if they can feel me coming, if they can hear my racing thoughts on my self-worth--my pathetically human needs. My nearly one hundred years of lust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! that was short, sorry! so i have never made an a/n on here so this is...neat. anyways, i'm trying to get as much of this written as i can. i'm in school so i'm super busy!! i'm trying to plan this all out in my head--i know how it is going to end up, so let's hope we can get to it. 
> 
> \-- m


	9. secrets / edythe pov

Now that Edward is gone, off somewhere North, I have time for myself, but he remains on my mind. What about Bella not showing up shocks him so much? I should not be acting much differently, because Alice had a life-changing, if you could call this that, vision, but we usually knew what to expect from change.   
In it, Edward had changed significantly—a liveliness was brought to his normally pale, gaunt skin. It was as if he went on a week-long hunting trip, but was not a predator of his usual diet. He had the same buoyancy as Carlisle and Esme, although visibly more protective of what he loved--but Alice could not see who stood beside him.  
I cannot understand entirely why he would go visit Tanya, and what problems could be solved with that kind of visit. When he left, I tried to get inside his mind, but the distance blocked me—ten miles out, and we’re disconnected.   
So I imagine.   
I imagine my brother coming home and admitting to breaking the vows he made to himself—to save his soul through a show of abstinence, both in blood and sex. I see myself knowing exactly what he will feel, and I know that he will hold on to what he considers a mistake for a considerable while.  
Then I groan.   
I would never hear the end of it, and I would not know how to conceal my views.   
I have my own reasons for staying away from others, but I try to keep them to myself the best I can, but with Edward’s ability to see inside my head, I know that I will lose in hiding the secrets I know I cannot admit.   
With Edward gone, I try to relax, but he remains in my thoughts if not in my head. I gravitate toward the piano and attempt to play, a bit gleeful that I cannot play well, that some part of my mind has fallen back, lapsed, in keeping up with the rest of itself.   
Or it could be the animal blood diet, I think, swiftly moving on to think of the Swans and the changes they bring. If a heart could beat.   
Bella would be in school, and I would have to hunt again—our hunting trip with Alice had gone to waste, so it would be prudent to start hunting early.   
I finish my performance, and pause, hearing silence except for the lingering final key of my song.   
I think of Beau, I think of Bella, and I think of how seeing their faces in Alice’s head changed my life’s trajectory, and I do not know what it will do to me, and to Edward. I cover the piano keys and make my way through the woods, over the rushing creek in our backyard, and toward a quickening heartbeat—one of my envy.


	10. some much-needed shopping / bella pov

I begin my hunt. After Charlie dropped me off at the grocery store, I felt the familiarity of the fluorescents, as if they were a guiding light to all of the listed ingredients on the small piece of paper I held beside my waist, crunching it with determination. Maybe I am too focused, I think. But this shred of normalcy is just what I need, and my grogginess has worn off. I was also happy to get away from Charlie--he was, well, not unusually silent in the car, but he was silent with a slight excitement, and that worried me for some reason, and I felt more involved with it than I should have when I was in the car with him. 

The store is familiar and not. While most brands stay the same, I can not find any of them in one try, walking around the tiny store in circles. A small basket in hand, I gather the necessities for spaghetti--Charlie, who doesn’t cook often, also doesn’t shop often, so I have to make do. Grabbing ground beef, I head for tomato sauce, missing it by one aisle when I first attempt to find it.

Somehow, Beau is on my mind here. I suppose not having him crack jokes beside me while I check off my list is different than usual--no one is picking up absolute junk and tossing it in my basket, weighing me down. I feel grateful for that. 

But I also feel like this sense of independence might end for me, and this will only be because of myself, because I also miss him. I shake it off, knowing that he’s somewhere in Arizona with his lengthy arms hanging off his bed, drool on his chin.

I grab my last few items and head to the checkout line, looking at the analog clock above the front entrance. It’s four, and although I have been meandering for only an hour, the sky outside has deepened, heavy as my groceries with rain. I say “thank you” to the cashier who hands me back a couple coins as I brace myself to go outside. I hesitate, though, because I do not see the cruiser--Charlie isn’t waiting for me although I reminded him when I left the car that I should only be an hour, and, something about his character is that he never is late. He is usually early when he shouldn’t be. My mom, perpetually late, hated that about him.

Then, as I look to my right, I see a red truck make its way across the parking lot, going at a slow pace with the window down. It pulls up beside me, and I look in. 

Charlie smiles, and, for the first time I have seen, it is genuine, crinkling around his eyes. 

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Your new ride. Hop in.”

I think of the sock I shoved under my mattress when I moved. Full of bills I saved up from birthdays, I wonder where my work went. 

I hesitate. “It’s old. Does it run well?”  
His smile falls a bit, but he has a bit of pride on his face when he says, “It’s great, hear that? Billy’s son, Jacob, fixed it up over the past couple of days to get it running.” That is the longest sentence I’ve heard from him in a while, too--he is more talkative than expected, and I know how my being in Forks has already impacted him, brightened him up despite the gloomy weather. 

“It’s...I...I love it,” I manage to say, honest but surprised, feeling silly while still holding the groceries. Charlie notices and leans over to open the door, letting me in. I just miss the rain.

“Thanks, Dad,” I tell him, examining the interior. “It’s nice in here, comfortable.” I could smell firewood, freshly extinguished, charred. “I’d drive, but I couldn’t tell you the way home.”

He laughed for only a moment, and then gently pressed the gas as he reminded me to put my seatbelt on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n:  
> hey, all! sorry i haven't updated! been depressed. more later. 
> 
> i love bella. i love charlie. and i love that people are digging my story! thank u
> 
> stay cute  
> m


	11. goodbye red truck / jacob pov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is just to get a glimpse of jake's ~feelings which is why we're seeing him part with the truck
> 
> i know that bella received the truck in the previous chapter but i felt like i was tearing a baby from a mother by not writing this lil scene

I’m made to clean out the truck before we head over to Charlie’s--I wipe it down with cloth made specifically for leather, and then make sure I get all of the dust off the dash. The cloth, each time, come back brown, disgusting, and I throw them behind me to create a pile on the ground, grabbing another. 

I’m frustrated with the fact that we must sell the truck--yes, money isn’t coming in as it should now, but I never would say that it would be that way forever. Julie and I are looking for jobs, and I don’t see how getting rid of one of our modes of transportation will help our cause. But I keep cleaning, making it acceptable for the chief. For Bella.

I can’t imagine what she looks like now--I can’t imagine that she remembers me, either, a bit jealous of my older twin sisters. I’m sure I’m forgettable.

Finished, I close the cab door a bit harder than I should have and bend to pick up my mess. I throw away the dirty wipes, and go to sit in the Rabbit. 

The garage, growing too warm, feels stuffy, and I find myself getting anxious for tonight’s dinner.   
Instinctively, or, really, out of habit, my leg begins to shake while I place my hands on the steering wheel of the Rabbit, imagining it becoming the smooth ride it’s meant to be. And I remember the empty seat next to me, wondering if someone will ever fill it.

“Jake?” says a voice from outside the room. Julie peeks her head out of the door frame, catching me out of my element. “You almost ready to get out of here? I think Dad’s almost done getting dressed.”

I stand up, barely missing hitting my head on the ceiling of the car. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll get the car started.” I walk toward her, noticing that she’s put on something with a bit of color. “Should I dress better?”

“Never thought you’d ask me that. Maybe change your jeans--you have a bit of grease on them.” She points to my thigh where a smear of black oil has found its way across my pants. I scoot past Julie, saying that it will be just a second, knowing that it would be hard to find a perfect pair of pants, totally unscathed by working on cars.

After I find the best pair, not much better than the one before, I go outside and walk to the garage. Starting the engine and letting it sit for a minute, I back out of the garage and pull to the side of the house where Julie waits with a ramp. She helps our dad up it, and I pull him inside the cab. “Thanks, son.” I nod, and Julie gets in, pushing the ramp away from the truck.

“So.” I pause. “How are we going to get home?”

“Charlie’ll take us back,” Dad states.

“You get backseat,” Julie jokes, and I take off.


	12. communal / bella pov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i have been mia! i am in school and i work and i had an internship but i am alive!  
> this is a little addition to this story. don't worry, i am writing the edward/bella/edythe meeting scene. it's gonna move faster!

Charlie helps me bring in the groceries, setting them down on the kitchen counter and promptly heading toward the living room to greet our guests.

I see their heads turn, the boy smiling brightly at Charlie while his sister glances my way. I feel my cheeks begin to redden, but I extinguish it by holding my breath, turning to begin taking tonight’s dinner out of the shopping bags. 

My dad, few on words, does not introduce them, but Jacob, whose name almost escapes me because of how different he looks from when we were kids. A memory of him as a toddler, running from his mother who tried desperately to catch him as he made his way across the pebble beach of the reservation. 

He holds out his hand, but not before after taking them out of his pockets, clearing his throat, and adjusting his posture, his smile showing some embarrassment. “Hi, good to see you.”

I set the box of spaghetti noodles in my hands down, briefly offering one hand to shake his. “You too. Are you interested in... spaghetti?” I realize how that sounds. “Because that's what we’re having,” I corrected, “if Charlie didn't say.”

He assessed the groceries. “Nothing wrong with spaghetti. Are you sure that's going to be enough?”

“What--why?”

“Because he could eat a pot to himself,” his sister interrupts, walking up behind him. “That's plenty.”

I turn red this time, watching the both of them smile down at me, although Julie, who never ran from her mother but followed her along the beach after her brother, is a few inches shorter than him.

“Let's cook!” Jacob suggests with all the excitement of a child, and hopefully with all of the good-naturedness of not eating all of the end product.

Julie and Jacob seem familiar with the kitchen, and I think of the time Charlie must have spent with them while Beau and I were away. 

At least this won't be fish fry.

When we cook, we add extra everything after Jacob did some digging in the cabinets and found a half-used box of penne. Julie dices up some tomatoes, I crush garlic, and Jake is in charge of cooking the noodles which I suggest should be in two separate pots as each noodle boils differently. To which he replies: “Yeah, right.” 

The noodles are probably fine after we stir the sauce, adding additional spices and allowing the aroma of the simple dish fill the house. From the living room, Billy says, “Smelling good, kids!” without turning from some game on TV.

Julie works at a faster pace than her brother who leisurely stirs the pot. The sauce simmers as she adds large basil leaves, ones I was happy to find at the store. The sauce's a red color could make me woozy if I let it get to my head, but the thought makes me smirk as I look at what is mainly Julie’s work. “I cook for myself sometimes, but we mainly cook for each other.” she explains. 

“We alternate,” Jacob adds, draining the monstrosity of a mixture of noodles. 

Empathy rises within me, remembering how Renée and my brother could hardly handle themselves in the kitchen, but my old friends had a better reason to be a caretaker. It seems like this was not a disadvantage for their family: they learned to live with Billy’s disability, creating a system that could not exist without the additional helping hands of a twin. 

Once the meal is finished, we pull out tableware and head to the living room after filling our plates as our table is not large enough. 

Jacob chatters, sometimes nervously, as we eat. Charlie throws in some complaints about baseball. Billy asks about the truck and I tell him I look forward to taking it for a spin. 

Julie mentions, by the end of it, that we’ll make something more visually appealing next.

I agree, letting her know that I’ll be at their place next week, and that I hope they like enchiladas.


	13. walden / edward pov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uuhhhhh sorry i disappear. i am still in school so i don't spend a lot of time with this, but i am planning in my head like crazy.

Humans hate Mondays for reasons that go unexplained. With their sense of time, I am sure that they begin to gain a distaste for the day after being so routine. I have fallen into step with them, hating Mondays as well although I do not sleep, my life one, extensive day. 

My routines, being who and what I am, include rare indulgences: a weekly hunt, a run north, days all to myself. 

But today I put my backpack on, not feeling its weight on my body as I walk toward Edythe’s room. 

For being with each other for so long, we had similar interests and tastes--her walls were bare aside from framed vinyl covers, prints of flowers and birds, and walls of shelves, boxes of belongings gathered throughout her life. 

“You’re up bright and early,” she jokes, running her fingers through her deep red hair as she sits on a chaise longue.

“I guess I’m a morning person,” I respond, continuing to ask if she is ready.

“Sure--have you spoken to Alice though? Did you hear today’s conditions?” She wasn't referring to the weather. “She said she saw Bella, not the brother, but she said she wasn’t looking into it.” 

My eyes widen, “What, why? Why would she suggest there would be a problem--” Unusually ineloquent, I was at a loss for words. 

“She said, rather viciously, actually, that she is no longer going to share what she sees with us. That we will have to dig. She said something about spoilers, and then another thing about harmony, which I am beginning to believe is something that she feels about everything.”

“Where is she now?” I manage to ask through grit teeth. I breathe, though I don't have to, to rid myself of annoyance.

“Already on her way.” I recall hearing Carlisle leave in the morning, the engine roaring to life, so I assume Alice joined him. “Jasper’s with them. Rose still needs to catch a ride. Eleanor and Emmett are still ‘visiting their adoptive parents’ this week so they’re off bonding over climbing mountains in Colorado.”

“Good for them. Let’s go, see what our sister has been hiding.”

I should have been paying more attention to Alice, not seeing her all weekend, storing myself away in my room while writing music, recording the daunting noise in my head through ink. I needed a symphony for every nuanced sound, every line of nervous thought a different instrument. 

We leave, saying goodbye to our mother, the car ride mostly silent, and I thank Edythe for leaving her mind blank, for knowing that this is what I prefer. 

-

Alice had told me that she had a vision, but neither one of us could figure out why the Swans matter so much--in a school so small, what impact could they have make with the larger world? 

I pull into the parking lot, noticing some students loitering around me. I hear their chatter, the kind in their head, picking up on a name. 

Isabella. 

It seems Alice didn't need her visions to know she was coming here, because I cannot see her face, or her brother’s, in any of their thoughts, but most students knew the new set of twins were coming. 

She hadn't arrived, and I ask Edythe, breaking our silence as we walk to our first class, if Alice’s vision, one of “harmony,” worth such secrecy?

She likely thinks it's interesting--another set of twins. Another oddity in the town, where there are duplicates, vampires, you name it.

“Why would she think that?” I say aloud, rather in surprise.

Just a guess. 

We take seats at our desk in English class, pretending to be human by slowly, what seems slowly, unzipping our bags and pulling out our copies of Walden. 

Mine, older, marbled, with gilded pages. Hers, ordered from the internet, dogeared to death.

Both of us wishing we could avoid Alice’s musings, whatever was stirring around us that is seemingly coming from the forest, where we would have liked to escape.


End file.
